


the best treasure is up Harry’s arse

by bafflinghaze



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Plug, Bottom Harry Potter, Bratty Sub Harry Potter, Consensual Somnophilia, Dirty Talk, Established Relationship, H/D Sex Fair 2020, Light Dom Draco Malfoy, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Post-Hogwarts, Prostate Milking, Sassy Harry Potter, Smut, So Much Fingering, Top Draco Malfoy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-22
Updated: 2020-11-22
Packaged: 2021-03-05 03:01:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,891
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25407334
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bafflinghaze/pseuds/bafflinghaze
Summary: Harry and Draco probably had a tumultuous time getting together, filled with angst and denial and pining and brooding. However, this is not that story. Here, Draco makes Harry come (more than once).
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Comments: 74
Kudos: 851
Collections: 2020 Harry/Draco Sex Fair





	the best treasure is up Harry’s arse

**Author's Note:**

> For Prompt #[186](https://docs.google.com/document/d/12_5f6f0xUXhqtWfMlhXRyA8kDC3KGShN3oa_IOD12DY/edit#).
> 
> Is Draco **cocky?** What is prostate milking anymore, I wonder in a daze as I write Harry coming again and again…
> 
>  **Beta** : [m0stlyvoid](https://archiveofourown.org/users/M0stlyVoid) ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️
> 
> Thank you to my beta and to the mods. Enjoy~

The slow fluttering of Harry’s eyes, the little moan from his mouth. Draco takes them as his due as he twists his fingers inside Harry. He loves how Harry’s body grips them, even in the half haze between sleep and wakefulness.

Two fingers... three fingers... four?—no, Harry wakes properly before Draco can fist him, a shuddering gasp that sounds a lot like, “ _Oh, Draco_.”

“Hm.” Draco presses firmly against Harry’s prostate. Harry’s back arches, pulling his fingers deeper. Oh, how beautiful is that deep blush against Harry’s brown skin, crawling down Harry’s neck; how beautiful the spark of green as Harry’s unfocused eyes look to him; how beautiful the curls that tumble across the silken pillows.

“Draco,” Harry whines.

“What do you want, darling?” Draco drawls, his fingers leisurely exploring Harry’s arse. It never gets old: hot, and silky, and tight, and _Harry_.

“... More?” Harry’s hand reaches towards Draco, as though wanting Draco closer.

“Hm.” Draco leans over and bestows upon his Harry a kiss. Eats up Harry’s moans as he rubs Harry’s prostate insistently, relentlessly. Harry’s breaths become harsh, his arse clenching down on Draco’s fingers. Telltale tension builds in Harry’s muscles.

“Come, Harry,” Draco commands.

Harry comes with a cry, cock spurting all over his chest.

“Aren’t you a messy boy,” Draco purrs. He continues finger-fucking him until Harry grimaces.

“Is your fault,” Harry grumbles. He throws an arm over Draco and presses their bodies together—Draco’s chest into the mess.

“But you were looking so _handsome_ ,” Draco says, arching an eyebrow. “Did you expect me to resist a snack like yourself?”

Harry gives him a dopey smile. “What are you trying to trick me into doing today, love?”

“Hardly a _trick_ ,” Draco snorts, pulling back, fingers rubbing the come on Harry’s chest. “The Anniversary event planning started months ago.”

Harry starts to frown, and Draco takes the opportunity to slip come-filled fingers into Harry’s mouth. Harry licks them, his lips curving into a smirk, still a little exasperated but no longer frowning.

“And you’re going to be _great_ , darling. I’ve made sure the robes will hide anything _else_ you might want to wear…”

* * *

The Ministry End-of-War Anniversary event is in the evening. Plenty of time for Draco to lube Harry up beforehand.

“... I should be going over my speech again,” Harry tries.

“ _Potter_ ,” Draco says sternly.

Harry makes a face. “ _Malfoy_ ,” he counters.

Draco drags a finger up Harry’s chest, up his sensitive neck, under his chin. “You _will_ do excellently,” he says, voice brooking no argument. “What you _should_ be worrying about right now is whether I’ll let you come before I plug you or not.”

“You always let me come. _Make_ me come, more like it,” Harry grins, the _cheeky_ bastard. 

“Your sex face is to _die_ for,” Draco drawls, kissing the corner of Harry’s mouth.

Harry snorts, but he allows Draco to push him back onto the bed.

“Spread those legs now,” Draco orders. His magic traces over the joggers Harry’s been wearing during the day, and they obediently disappear and reappear in the clothes hamper.

Harry spreads his legs obscenely wide. “Like what you see?”

“ _Adore it_ , my dear,” Draco murmurs. “If I could tie your legs, spread out like this…” Cocky satisfaction draws a smirk on Draco’s lips as Harry’s cock starts to stiffen.

Draco summons the bottle of lube and slicks his fingers. He swirls one over Harry’s perineum, up, then down. Harry makes tiny shifting motions that Draco doubts he’s even aware of.

Because Draco loves Harry, he doesn’t tease for _too_ long. He slips a finger inside.

“A little loose, hmm?”

Harry smirks. “Oh, it’s because I got a good dicking earlier—no hard feelings, right?”

“Oh?” Draco presses a second finger in. “How was he?”

“Blond, like you. But he was actually nice to me, you know?”

Draco suppresses the urge to roll his eyes. Harry had _loved_ the dirty talk during the fucking Draco gave him earlier, and they both know it.

“Do you know how lovely you look on my fingers?” Draco murmurs. “How _delectable_ you are, legs spread like that?” Draco fucks his fingers in, out, the lube squelching obscenely.

“I’m pretty, I know,” Harry says cockily.

“Oh, you’re a _snack_ ,” Draco counters. “Dressed like _that_ , with your fuck-me eyes.” Draco leans over, capturing one of Harry’s nipples with his teeth. Harry cries out. Draco laves his tongue over reddened skin, nibbling up the column of Harry’s throat. “One bite and there’s no going back.”

His fingers brush off that delicious bundle of nerves. Harry jerks with a moan, throat bobbing.

“C’mon,” he says, voice tight. “Let’s get this over and done with.”

Draco stills his fingers instead Harry’s arse, rubs the outside with his thumb instead. “I need you loose enough for the plug,” Draco says innocently. “Relax, Harry.” He presses hard against Harry’s prostate, pulsing his fingertips. He _revels_ in how Harry’s body shudders, how his plump lips part.

“Draco,” Harry mumbles. “C’mon, Draco.”

“Let me feast on your first.” Oh yes, the hot grip of Harry’s arse, the erratic clenching as Harry’s body asks for _more_. The sweat springing across Harry’s skin, and those lips that Draco cannot resist biting.

Harry’s cock is hard, flushed red. But Draco doesn’t touch it.

“Because you’re going to come untouched again, aren’t you? All that training, you’ve been such a good boy, haven’t you? You don’t even need a thick cock. Anything will do, because you’re a _desperate_ boy.”

Little shudders spread through Harry’s body. Draco revels in the little frown on Harry’s forehead.

“Draco. _Please_.”

“I could do this forever.”

“ _Draco_ ,” Harry pleads. He shifts his hips, clenching down, trying to grip Draco’s finger like a vice.

“You’re going to give your speech tonight,” Draco says. “You’re going to look the audience in the eye and smile. The War is over, Harry. Its effects are not, but you’ve done such good work, Harry. You should be proud.”

Tears spring in Harry’s eyes as he cries out. He comes with a shudder, dry. “Draco, Draco.”

“Shh, it’s alright,” Draco murmurs. He pets Harry’s hair with his free hand, and when he can tell Harry’s ready, he slips the plug in.

“You’re such a bastard sometimes,” Harry says, in between hiccups of tears.

“Then maybe I am a bastard, but I would prefer if you cried now instead of later,” Draco says. “My much-too-large-hearted Gryffindor.”

“I need the large heart,” Harry says, smile watery. “To make up for your lack of one.”

Draco pinches his arse for that.

* * *

There are times where Draco loves admiring Harry from afar. See how _heroic_ , how _Gryffindor_ , he looks. That air of charisma that Draco now knows Harry does on _accident_ , he who is cursed with such bright green eyes and lovely smile and pinchable cheeks.

Peacock-blue-green robes become him, accented with shimmering, almost rainbow, embroidery. The robes sweep out majestically as he walks—charmed, of course—teasing just enough of his figure underneath.

But _they_ don’t know what Draco does. The public knows that Harry and Draco are together, but it’s not in Draco’s nature to flaunt Harry _that_ way.

Or rather, if Draco were standing by Harry’s side, he would find it hard to resist slipping a hand through Harry’s robes in public. Just a little slit, just a little _Notice-Me-Not_ , it would be such _torture_ for both of them...

A tinkling of sound fills the air, as Minister Kingsley Shacklebolt calls attention for the round of obligatory talks. When it’s Harry’s turn, there’s no need for Harry to search for Draco in the crowd of faces. Draco simply twirls his fingers a little, and Harry will _know_.

Draco claps at the end of Harry’s speech. He claps politely for the others. Shacklebolt makes closing words, and the mingling of the event comes back in swing.

Draco twirls his fingers again and heads to one of the lavatories, a large, single-occupancy stall. Harry arrives soon after.

“Good job, Harry,” Draco praises.

Harry gives a suppressed smile. “You’re saying that because you wrote half of my speech.”

“And for that, I’m _not_ casting a privacy charm,” Draco says, manhandling Harry to stand in front of the mirror.

Harry throws his head back, tilts his arse up. “All the bathrooms have privacy charms, Malfoy,” he says brazenly. Like he’s _taunting_ Draco, and they both fucking know it.

 _SLAP!_ Draco’s hand caresses the swell of Harry’s bum a beat later. “Loud enough?” he purrs.

Harry tilts his head, blinking innocently. “What was that?”

Draco growls, pushing Harry against the glass. Harry lets out a breathy moan. With a wave of Draco’s hand, Harry’s robes parts, revealing flushed-red cheeks. Draco toys with the plug with one hand, plastering his front to Harry’s back. Harry’s hips make tiny motions, and Merlin, it’s so fucking _thrilling_ to know how pliable Harry is under Draco’s fingers when he wants too.

(How _flooring_ it is to know that Harry trusts him enough to let go.)

“What if I took down those privacy charms, hmm?” Draco says nibbling Harry’s ear. 

Harry shudders. His breath fogs the glass.

“Don’t rest your head like that,” Draco chides, using his other hand to tug Harry’s head back. “Look into the mirror. Look at those eyes that _I_ have to see all day.” He runs his fingers up the column of Harry’s neck, splaying them possessively against Harry’s cheek, Draco’s pale fingers against Harry’s deep warm skin.

“Look how _beautiful_ you are. Do you know just how those officials out there _lust_ over you?”

Harry’s throat bobs. “They’ll say _you’re_ the pretty one, with your blond hair and slender figure.”

“Well,” Draco breathes into Harry’s ear, meeting his eyes in the reflection. “They’ll be right. I _am_ the pretty one.”

Harry cracks a grin. “You’ll be my trophy husband.”

Draco twists the plug in Harry’s arse, shocking a gasp out of Harry. “Maybe I _do_ need to teach you a lesson. About proper _marriage proposals_.” Draco skates fingers across Harry’s bum, teasing a spank, tapping just lightly. He can see how Harry’s tensing, tilting his arse up, waiting for it…

“Ah, but we have to hurry, don’t we? Can’t keep those officials waiting for too long.” He pulls out the plug with one smooth tug and Banishes it back to their flat. He pauses, just long enough for Harry to feel that sharp _emptiness_ before he plunges two fingers in.

“You’re so wet,” Draco purrs. “Don’t tell me you’ve been fucking when I wasn’t looking.”

“No, no,” Harry says, his hips chasing Draco’s fingers. He cries as Draco teases that oh-so-lovely bundle of nerves.

“Are you sure?” Draco says. There is something delicious about stirring up this imaginary jealousy. A twist of fingers has Harry moaning.

“Look at you, look how much you want it. I bet you want to be tied up and fucked all day. Don’t you? All those officials out there. Friends of my father. If only they _knew_ how much you want their fingers.” Draco strokes Harry’s insides, drawing moans and shuddering gasps.

“They could be standing, just outside. Listening. _Watching_ , with the right surveillance charm. They’re wanking themselves over you. My lovely Harry.” Draco’s fingers are insistent now, Harry’s standing almost on his toes, his shoulders tight.

“Should I let them come all over you?”

“Draco, Draco,” Harry moans, words Draco only recognises due to experience. He’s close.

Draco gives a vicious twist of his fingers. “ _No_ , because you’re _mine_ , and you’ll come because I _told you to_.”

Harry comes with a full-body shudder. Draco continues massaging his prostate, eyes greedily watching how Harry’s taken by each successful wave of orgasm. Draco’s there to catch Harry before he slumps. Draco’s there to fix his robes and spell them—and the mirror—clean.

“There are still hours of this event left,” Draco tells Harry. “Make sure you dance and think of me.”

Harry’s eyes crinkle. “How could I not?”

* * *

When they arrive home, Draco carefully removes their robes and hangs them up. He goes through his nighttime routine, stripping off the grime of the day. He strips off his clothes, puts them in the hamper and begins the automatic washing charm sequence.

He turns around to find Harry’s clothes on a messy pile on the floor and Harry reclining completely naked on their bed. Harry’s legs are parted, his hand draped over his inner thigh, close to but not quite touching his arse, which is dark pink and so fucking enticing. Draco could make a shrine to that arse, though for tax and censorship purposes, he should set up a religion to Harry Potter more generally…

Harry bites his bottom lip, rolling his testicles in his palm.

Draco narrows his eyes. “My, what are you plotting now, Potter?”

“Hmm,” Harry says. “Shouldn’t I reward _you_?”

Draco discards his pants and climbs onto the bed, settling between Harry’s parted legs. “ _I_ dispense the rewards around here.”

Harry blinks, green eyes wide and innocent behind their glasses. “So I suppose you _don’t_ want to come inside me and fill me up and make me yours forever and ever? To ruin me for any other person?” His fingertips nudge against his perineum. 

Draco grabs his hand and puts it on Draco’s cock instead. “Prepare me then,” he says coolly. “You’re still loose, aren’t you? Come on, Harry.”

Harry’s brows furrow. A moment later, lube appears on his fingers, and he starts to tug Draco’s cock. It takes almost all of Draco’s concentration to remain still and not fuck that circle of Harry’s fingers. But his cock shows his enjoyment nonetheless, growing as it stiffens under Harry’s ministrations.

Harry licks his lips, mouth parting. A mouth perfect for being Gryffindorish, and casting spells, and sucking cock.

Draco shifts up the bed, Harry’s legs tangling up in his arms. “Should I get a ball gag or cock for you to suck on?” he drawls.

Harry’s eyes snap up. “Don’t you want to hear me?” he says, eyebrows rising, smiling hovering on his lips.

“You git,” Draco retaliates by pressing both Harry’s arms into the bed, pressing his groin against Harry’s. “Give me twenty good reasons why I should fuck a brat like you.”

“Because you want to and I want to,” Harry says easily.

Draco pulls a face, because he can’t argue with that, and Harry knows that Draco knows it. “Then keep your arms there,” he orders. After ensuring Harry’s compliance, he nudges one of Harry’s legs over his shoulder, gripping the base of his own cock with the other hand. He thrills with anticipation as the head of his cock nudges against Harry’s arse. He exhales as Harry’s body opens up for him. Perfect. Like coming home. Draco runs affectionate fingers up Harry’s skin as his cock settles into the tight heat.

Harry’s throat bobs. “Yes, come on, Draco. Fuck me, unless you’re too tired…”

“Your wish is my command, my prince,” Draco smirks, bending Harry how he likes to get that _perfect_ angle. He draws out almost all the way and slams back in. Harry cries out a “Yes!”

Draco grins sharply. Perfect, oh, Draco is _so_ fucking good at this.

Harry’s body tightens and releases with every thrust. Sweat collects on brown skin and curly hair. 

“Is this what you wanted?” Draco grunts out, his focus tightening in on his cock, on Harry’s arse, on Harry’s face.

“Yes, _yes_.”

“Do you _really_ want me to come inside you? Mark you? Make you mine?”

Harry gives a very affirmative moan, head arching back and baring his neck. It’s too enticing; Draco immediately buries his head, nips the sensitive skin there. He can’t thrust as powerfully in this position, but he _can_ still hit Harry’s prostate, he can _feel_ the way Harry’s body shudders with each fuck, he can hear the way Harry’s heart thuds, feel the harshness of Harry’s breath.

“I love you,” Harry says. “Draco, I love you.”

“Fuck!”

Draco comes uncontrollably. Whiteness blooms behind his eyes as pleasure takes over. His cock pulses hot, painting Harry’s insides with _Draco’s come_. Harry’s arse clenches hard, like it’s trying to milk _Draco_ , and Harry’s crying out as he comes too, cock spurting between their stomachs.

“Draco, Draco, Draco.”

It takes all of Draco’s strength to fuck them through their orgasms, to keep going until it’s too much. With a groan, he slumps on top of Harry.

“You’re the fucking death of me,” Draco accuses, though his voice sounds _way_ too openly fond for his reputation.

Harry’s legs tighten around Draco’s hips. “Uh-huh,” he says affirmatively. He grins and lands a completely failed kiss on Draco’s cheek.

Draco makes to pull out, but Harry keeps him locked inside.

“You’ll be sore tomorrow,” Draco warns.

Harry’s eyes crinkle and this time lands a more successful kiss on the corner of Draco’s mouth. “Don’t you think the best plug is your cock?”

Draco’s cock makes a valiant effort to harden inside Harry’s arse. “You’re insatiable,” Draco says in exasperation. “At this rate, the skin of my fingers will age horribly.”

“You’ll think of something,” Harry says cheekily. “Or maybe you’re just getting old, old man. Aren’t you like, two _whole months_ older than me?”

Draco hisses, drawing energy from _somewhere_ to push himself up. “Time for round fucking two then.”

  


  


~The End~

  


  


**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! Please support the author by clicking on the kudos button and leaving a comment below! ♥


End file.
